


Tommy

by Jetlagden



Series: Historical AUs [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - World War I, Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Mother's Day, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetlagden/pseuds/Jetlagden
Summary: The war had ended a year ago. A year later, and Jack still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d have to return to Flanders or France the following morning.





	Tommy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place around 1919-1920, and was vaguely inspired by the poem "Tommy" by Rudyard Kipling. Please take the historical accuracy with a grain of salt; I'm a history student, but there's only so much I know and am able to research! I mostly wrote this because I didn't feel like starting on preparing my ww1 lessons, so I channeled my energy into this instead. Let me know what you think or if you find any typo's/mistakes! Unbeta'd as usual, and all the characters belong to Ngozi!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> 25/1: So I can't seem to muster up the inspiration to finish this, so I'm just going to leae it as it is. Sorry!

The war had ended a year ago. Jack had celebrated with what was left of his platoon once the sergeant’s watch had told them it was eleven o’ clock. He could hear cheering coming from the trench just a few hundred meters away as well, the German men and boys just as happy with the news as they were. No more fighting. No more gas, bombs and trenches. No more death. None of them had truly been able to believe it at the time, despite their relief. It hadn’t seemed real even when Jack had set foot in England again and had been treated like a hero, not even when he returned home in his weeping mother’s embrace and yet still woke every night from nightmares that were just as horrid as the front had been, if not more so.

A year later, and Jack still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d have to return to Flanders or France the following morning. He hadn’t stayed in touch with the sergeant or his platoon, even though he knew some of them now lived in Montréal as well. The government had given him the British War Medal, the Victory Medal and the 1914-1915 star, as well as a small veteran’s pension. The medals were kept in a drawer besides his father’s bed, his mother collected his pension. Jack himself lived in a small apartment, low on rent and in a quiet neighborhood, for while the city’s center had felt like an embrace before, it now just felt like it would suffocate him.

There were always so many people. People going on about their days, chattering, newboys shouting to sell their papers, automobiles and carriages racing by, one-legged and blind men wearing the same decorations Jack’s father kept for him on their chest, reduced to begging on the street. It angered Jack, to see these men uncared for, while they had given so much for the sake of peace. Jack always gave them everything he could miss, be it a warm meal or money. He seemed to be one of the few. The government seemed to remember their country’s wounded and fallen on Remembrance Day, and then continued on with their lives for the rest of the year as the poppies withered on monuments and gravestones.

For Jack, and many of those poor sods begging on the streets or tossing in their beds, the war was not so easily forgotten. His parents didn’t understand, but his mother was still his mother, so for Mother's Day, he had planned out a perfect day to make up for the missed ones. His neighbor- a fellow veteran who was prone to using the kind of language that’d make a sergeant blush- had recommended it to him, saying the business was ran by and took care of veterans. Jack was skeptical, but when his neighbor had mentioned their strawberry pastries were out of this world, Jack had given in. His mother adored strawberries.

Mother’s day found him and his mother in the small establishment, and Jack was pleasantly surprised. There was a sign up that proclaimed veterans of the Great War were welcome and could receive a hot drink and a meal upon simply asking, and Jack indeed saw a few men hunched over a plate with pie or a mug of coffee. He even recognized one of the men he usually saw begging in front of the general store, a tall, dark-skinned man who missed an eye and half of ear. He was animatedly chatting to the store’s owner, a short man who wore an American Victory medal with three clasps on it. Jack hadn’t been able to read what they had engraved on them when the man had seated them and handed them two menu’s with a smile and a kind “I’ll be by with coffee in a minute”.

“This is a lovely place,” Jack’s mother said, unabashedly looking around, “It smells wonderful.” Jack nodded in agreement, studying the excessive menu.  
“My neighbor said their strawberry pastries are to die for,” he told her, smiling at her delighted gasp.

“I’ll be sure to order those,” she said, putting her menu down, just as the same man from before made his way over again, a few of the veterans seated near the bar hooting after him.

The owner had a dark blush on his cheeks as he pulled out a pen and a notepad after pouring them both some coffee, giving Jack a shy smile before turning to address Alicia.

“Have you been able to decide, ma’am?” he asked, “Terribly sorry about the racket, those boys do not know how to use their indoor voices.” Jack snorted- he figured that was because some of them spend most of their time outdoors. Alicia glared at him, before she said: “I’ll have one of your strawberry éclairs, they sound wonderful. Thank you, Eric. Jack?” Jack looked up, finding both his mother and the owner, apparently named Eric, looking at him. He blinked, opening and closing his mouth for a moment, before clearing his throat and ordering apple pie.

Eric jotted their orders down, and grinned. “One strawberry éclair and an American apple pie coming right up,” he said, “I promise it will be the best you’ve ever had.” Then he winked, leaving Jack staring after him. He watched Eric halfheartedly high five the half blind veteran and exchange some words with him, before moving behind the counter to prepare their pastries.

There was something about Eric that left Jack dumbfounded. He hadn’t even wanted to order the apple pie, he was more leaning towards almond sugar cake, but Eric had reminded him of apple pie for some reason, so he’d just blurted that out. And then Eric had winked at him, which was not something men often did. At least, not in the general direction of other men. Before Jack could get too deep into what it could mean exactly- he wasn’t an idiot, he’d served four years at the front, he knew what men could and would get up to and to say he wasn’t inclined to it would be a lie- his mother woke him from his thoughts.

“Jack? Is everything alright?” she asked, brows knitted together in concern. She did that a lot, ever since the first night Jack spend home after the war. He’d woken the entire house up with his screams. Jack couldn’t remember what exactly had transpired, but his parents both treaded a little more careful around him ever since. Instead of telling her to stop worrying about him, though, he forced out a smile and said: “Yes, everything is fine. I was just thinking about where to take you after this. Maybe the park? We could take a walk, feed the geese, like we used to when I was a child.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alicia agreed, not able to shake off the concern about her son entirely, but also knowing when not to push; this was their first mother’s day together in five years’ time and she did not intend to ruin it. She was just about to ask Jack if he had heard about the new picture playing in the local theatre yet when Eric returned to their table with the éclair and pie. She made sure to thank him, hearing Jack mutter a “merci” as well, before he turned to her with a genuine smile this time.

“Happy mother’s day, maman,” he said, reaching over the table to take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles, “I’m glad we get to spend it together again.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two will bring us more interaction between Jack and Bitty, and a little more backstory on Bitty as well. I just need to write it. I hope you enjoyed it so far, leave a comment with your thoughts!


End file.
